


Break me, remake me

by GreyMinerva



Category: Leverage
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5252681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMinerva/pseuds/GreyMinerva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nate is the only one who sees what Eliot needs.</p><p>Post 3x15, The Big Bang Job</p>
            </blockquote>





	Break me, remake me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoosierbitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/gifts).



«I can't do it». The words were strangled, muffled by the pillow and clearly being choked out against his will.

Nate didn't answer at first, merely stilled, one hand slowly stroking Eliot's lower back, soothing the straining muscles there.  
«I... I...» Eliot managed to bite back the words that wanted to spill forth again, trying to bring himself back under control, but he was so far gone, flying so high, that it was a lost cause.  
Still no words from Nate, just quiet, endless patience, his hand a warm and steadying presense that grounded him, kept him from flying apart when the sensations threatened to overwhelm him.  
As he gradually managed to catch his breath, still the trembling in his limbs, the young man on the bed relaxed into his restraints. Part of him wanted to keep fighting, to keep pulling at the cuffs and the chains, but the seductive voice in the back of his head kept telling him to let go, to give in.  
After a while, Nate's voice whispered along his skin, causing another round of shivers, «What's your colour, Eliot?».  
A long moment, while his brain tried to unscramble itself, to find its way back to conscious words and not just instinctive babbling, before he could answer with a gasped «Yellow».  
He could feel the approval radiating from the hand on his back, and he relaxed even further, using the breather to prepare himself.  
  
«I'll go slow». The words were spoken softly, quietly, and yet they echoed in his head, bouncing around as his breathing grew quicker again.  
He fought not to tense up again.  
The hand on his back kept up the gentle stroking, but he could feel it tense just a little as the other hand restarted it's motion again, slowly rocking the giant dildo into his stretched hole, little by little.  
  
And Eliot burned. His entire body was aflame, sweat pouring out, hypersensitized skin reacting to the movement of air along the tiny hairs on his arms and legs.  
He couldn't take any more. He just couldn't. The stretch and burn was just too much, consuming him from the inside out.  
But Nate said he could.  
Nate, who somehow knew him the way none of the others did.  
  
Nate, who had seen him in that warehouse, really seen him, and still hadn't turned away – just done that sleepy blink of his that didn't quite hide the sharp eyes beneath, and told him they'd deal with it.  
And that's what they were doing.  
  
After all, Eliot was all about rules and boundaries – his own, not whatever arbitrary laws or unwritten rules society lived by – and breaking them had consequences.  
Personal consequences.  
Any loss of control, wether accidental or wholly premeditated had consequences. It broke him a little, made him less Eliot and more... something else. Something that could only live in the dark, something that wouldn't be governed by self-imposed rules, something that needed to be put down for the safety of others.  
Whenever he stretched the boundaries of the limits that created and maintained him, he needed to find his way back to the template, the Eliot-shaped place inside him that contained all the bits and pieces of him that were worth keeping – and far too many of the ones that weren't.  
And that's what Nate saw, where everybody else just saw pieces of the whole.  
So Nate helped him. Helped him, when noone else had ever even seen the problem.

Eliot fought against it, but another whimper tore out of him as he felt another ridge slip past his impossibly stretched hole, knowing that there was more to come, that the toy Nate had showed him would take him as far as he needed to go and further still. That there was nothing to keep the older man from damaging him, hurting him badly, and still trusting him to do it right.  
  
He buried the sounds spilling from his mouth in the pillow, not yet ready to do this face to face, to see the look of serenity on Nate's face, the calm acceptance and steady resolve that scared him so much because it both promised and demanded.  
«Almost there, shhhh now».  
And with the next push-and-stretch, the impossible girth filling him was suddenly too much, just enough, just right, and his back arched, his throat locked up as his head flew back and  
he  
   just  
      broke  
apart, his mind flying into a thousand glittering pieces like a broken mirror, crystal shards showing Eliot-that-was and Eliot-that-could-be and all the things in between, and his throat unlocked and he screamed, the way he NEVER screamed for anyone else, ever, and he shook so hard the hand on his back pushed down, hard, to keep him pinned to the mattress as the orgasm-and-catharsis rode him out and he thrashed against the chains.  
  
And as he collapsed, like a puppet with all its strings cut, the broken pieces inside sorted themselves out, spilling back into the hole in his head, letting just a few more pieces of Eliot-that-could-be inside, shedding a few parts of Eliot-that-was on the outside.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so far the only real fanfic I've written. And of course it was porn.  
> It was a birthday fic for the wonderful hoosierbitch, and I finally - years later - got around to posting it now.


End file.
